by LeRoy Clary
“I don’t know what vipers are.”
“Snakes. A den filled with snakes. Poisonous ones.”
“Oh. I guess I sort of expected people to welcome me and give me hugs.”
“Some will offer hugs. Some will squeeze you so tightly that you choke,” he muttered, still speaking into his chest. “But, others will genuinely welcome you and offer their condolences about your father.”
“How will I know which is which?”
He snorted in laughter. “Again, you impress me by asking the most intelligent questions. If I had the answer to that one, I’d be the smartest man in the Palace.”
A pair of horses trotted closer from behind, the two young men talking and ignoring the other travelers as their horses cleared the way. Both wore clothing as well made as those the Earl wore, and probably more fashionable. Their hats flopped as the horses trotted, raising their polished hooves high with every step. A single colored feather stood several hands high above each hat.
The horses moved the travelers on foot aside by intimidating them. They trotted down the center of the road, side by side, and the peasants spread apart to allow them to pass. The riders ignored the people walking, many of them carrying burdens to sell at the market.
One horse struck a man who hadn’t heard them approach or hadn’t stepped out of the way quickly enough. The left shoulder of the horse struck him. He stumbled off to the side of the road and dropped a sack of squash as he caught his balance. Several squashes split open as they struck the ground.
As bad as that was, the smirking rider, annoyed that the peasant hadn’t moved from his way, lashed out with his left foot, striking the man on his shoulder, just as he caught his balance after the near fall. A woman made a desperate grab for him but missed. The peasant fell to his knees amid the laughter of the two riders and the scowls and angry faces of the peasants. Many made obscene gestures when they were sure the two riders would not see them.
The riders whooped and spurred their horses ahead until they pulled alongside the old wagon and the slow mule pulling it. Hannah wanted to reach out and slap the nearest rider. He was close enough to reach, and he wouldn’t see her hand. Her temper almost reached the flash point as they looked behind at the man on his knees retrieving his load of squash, and they burst into new gales of laughter.
Sir James hissed from the side of his mouth at her, “Be quiet, Hannah.” He scooted to the left of the seat and leaned out as the riders pulled alongside, drawing their attention to his action. He lifted his old straw hat as if wishing them a good morning, but his voice held no warmth as he growled so only they could hear. “You will both report to me at first light tomorrow in the stables. Until then you will say nothing of seeing me on this road.”
Their eyes went wide, all traces of humor replaced with fear. One muttered, “Sir James?”
“Another word from either of you and I’ll double your punishment. Get on with you.” He waved an impatient arm in their direction and turned away, dismissing them.
The horses trotted and then with a last look behind from one of the young men, they galloped in the direction of the palace, careful to avoid any peasants on the road. Sir James muttered, “Now everyone will know I’m returning. I should have held my peace and handled that tomorrow.”
“Who are they?” Hannah asked.
“Squires. They’re the sons of wealthy men who have sent them for training as the King’s Knights. I am the head Knight. Therefore, they report to me.”
“What will happen to them?”
“Their fathers have gold and position so I won’t send them home in shame, which is what they deserve. But tomorrow they will learn to clean horse dung from the stables like your friend at the Earl’s castle, but worse. I’ll have them fill my flagon.”
“I didn’t know that you knew about Cleanup. He was a good friend. But, you use a lot of words I don’t know. What’s a flagon?”
“Years ago I had a container built for punishing pretentious squires like those two. They will be ordered to fill it with fresh horse dung until it’s full. Then they will find me and be released from the task.” He chuckled.
“There’s more that I don’t see?”
He nodded, still keeping his chin resting on his chest, so it was a small nod. “There are holes cut in the base of the flagon. The more dung they pile on top, the more weight presses down on that at the bottom, and it squeezes out the juice.”
Picturing it in her mind, Hannah asked, “Your flagon will hold more than they think?”
He chuckled again. “If they do not work hard and fast, as I suspect will be the case, the next morning it will hold less than the day before.”
“How can that be?”
“When fresh, horse dung is mostly water. Well, maybe not mostly, but almost. The water is squeezed out by the weight of that piled on top, so the flagon never fills.”
“You’ve had others punished this way?”
Sir James paused and allowed a small group to pass the wagon as he held it as far to one side as possible for their convenience. When no others were near, he said, “More than a few. Including me.”
“You? You’re the head Knight!”
“I am, but that was not always so. Once I was young and arrogant, they tell me. Another palace, another head Knight and another flagon. I learned my lesson trying to fill it.”
Hannah glanced up to find they were nearing the gate, a wide hole in the otherwise unbroken wall, an iron clad oak set of doors each as thick as the walls of the morning kitchen. Massive chains connected the doors to stone structures with large wooden wheels to draw them quickly closed.
Besides the doors, to either side were slits built into the stone walls. She’d seen similar at the Earl’s Castle. “For shooting arrows at enemies?”
“No,” he said. “The slits for archers are located up higher. Those beside the gate are for pikes, which are spears to stab any who get close.”
Hannah looked at the gates to a row of gutters above; each was a handbreadth from the next, and the water would spill right onto people passing through the gate below. She wondered why they should be there, and her face must have shown it.
Sir James saw where she looked. “Not for water. Burning oil.”
“That must hurt!”
“We use a special oil the mage concocts. Once it splashes on a man’s skin, he can’t get it off. The oil burns like, well like nothing you’ve ever seen. They dump the oil in a trough up there and then throw a few torches to light as it drips on those below. Fortunately, we have not been attacked for more than two hundred years, so those nasty things have not been put to use.”
Guards stood to either side of the gate, as well as two others, giving permission to enter after they discovered the reason for each visit, usually just a quick question and answer. However, as the old wagon pulled into line to wait their turn, the guards shouted, waved their arms, and moved the crowd aside, motioning for Sir James to enter first. They snapped to attention and saluted as the wagon rolled inside to the amazement of the peasants in line.
Sir James muttered something about having a second flagon constructed by morning.
Hannah heard little of it because her eyes went to the courtyard inside the Palace, the banners, flags of different shapes and colors, the bright dress of the people, and the noise and confusion of the busy marketplace. She drank it in.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hannah listened to the ebb and flow of a hundred conversations in the marketplace. Music filtered from four or five locations, all playing different songs on different instruments. At least two women sang, as did a man with a deep voice in another part of the market. But far more than sound captivated her. Directly ahead a woman in layers of colorful skirts danced, twirling around while trailing a gown of green the color of spring grass, copper bracelets jangled on her wrists.
Food fried, baked, boiled, and roasted, all twisting and turning Hannah’s hungry stomach. The vendors called out to strolling shoppers
, describing the wonderful items for sale. She heard them describe meat pies, bread, tent poles, knives, hats, and sewing material fit for Queens. She heard a man that would sharpen any blade, another who worked the finest leather, and a woman who claimed to serve the best soup in the kingdom. A boy shouted praises about a goat he had for sale. Another boy sold apples, the best tasting of all, if they believed his calls.
The sights, sounds, smells, and excitement assaulted her like nothing she’d ever experienced. Sir James pulled the wagon to where all other wagons and beasts of burden were standing at the side of the market, gathered in the one location for the day.
A boy about her age ran up to Sir James. “Sir, for a small copper I’ll water your mule and watch over him.”
The Knight stood in the wagon and stretched before climbing down. “You live here, son?”
The boy nodded eagerly and pointed at a man replacing the sole of a shoe for a customer, “That’s my father.”
“Then walk with me,” he said to the boy.
He glanced at where Hannah was, missing her location by three steps because she’d already climbed down, but the knight still couldn’t see her any better than anyone else. She enjoyed the game of being invisible and saw him looking at the dirt where her footprints appeared, then he smirked. He was on to her.
Once they arrived at the cobbler, Sir James stood and waited his turn. When the old man, nails held between his lips, looked up, Sir James lifted his hat. “Do you recognize me, sir?”
“Yes, sir,” the cobbler said without losing a nail, but looking at his son in an accusing way, as if to ask, “What has he done now?”
But the Knight just smiled and pointed. “See that broken down wagon and mule? It has served me well, but I have no more use for it. I would consider it a personal favor if your son saw to the care of the animal until you can find a buyer for both.”
“How much should I ask for the pair?”
“Whatever you wish to pocket, my good man. Any profit is yours. And your son’s.” Sir James spun and managed to find Hannah’s arm with his hand. He grabbed and held on, almost dragging her across the courtyard. She noticed people looking at Sir James, now, his name on many lips. The word of his arrival had spread. She thought it funny until realizing it might place her in danger.
The two squires telling of his arrival had no idea of the trouble they caused. She realized that they had been told not to say a word, and had. Battles have been lost because of less. Her anger grew with every well-wisher, every hello, and even nods of heads. Everyone in the palace seemed to know he had returned. Many genuinely seemed happy, but others feigned their pleasure.
They neared one wing of the large building ahead, and a door with a guard on duty drew her attention. The guard snapped to attention when they were still five steps away. Sir James threw the door open without acknowledging the salute, his mood foul. He pointed to a massive stairway for the sake of Hannah, and they climbed what seemed like fifty steps to the second floor. Another set of stairs greeted them, and he started up them, not as fast, and his breath came in gasps. He paused, part of the way up, holding a rail for support, and for the first time she realized he was as old as her father.
The stairs, walls, and roof were all made of the same gray stone as the outside walls, but unlike the ground floor, the second held paintings covering the walls along with woven works of art. Carpets covered the floors. Obviously, more important people lived there.
The third-floor walls held even more impressive paintings and tapestries, the glint of gold thread sparkling in the dim light. The third-floor carpeting overlapped, sometimes three deep, so it felt like walking across a spongy meadow.
Sir James didn’t slow. They walked, and she looked at the doors, most ornate and carved. Finally, at a door carved with a leaping stag, he reached for the latch and pushed it open. Inside a man already stood at attention, well dressed, and obviously expecting him.
“Sir, the maids are getting your rooms ready as quickly as possible. I only heard of your arrival a short while ago. Is there anything you require?”
“Yes, there is, William. I need a bed placed in my chart room today. I need a bathtub brought as quickly as you can have it done, along with at least twenty buckets of hot water. And soap, I need lots of soap. I also need three of the best seamstresses in the palace, and I need them now.”
William hesitated. “Do you mean tailors, sir?”
Sir James swelled his chest and shouted, “If I wanted tailors I would have requested them.”
William spun and ran across the room to another doorway. Sir James called after him, “When I have the seamstresses, bathtub, and water, I will need privacy, no matter if my bedding is fresh or not.”
“Who is he?” Hannah asked.
“My manservant and old friend. The best in the kingdom, if you ask me,” Sir James said, throwing the straw hat to one side and pulling off his shirt. His fingernails raked across his chest and stomach. “I think that farmer gave me an itch.”
“Probably bugs,” Hannah said. “You deserve them; you don’t treat William very well.”
“I do not enjoy talking to a person I cannot see. We’re going to correct that with a bath for you.”
“You can correct those little bugs biting you with a bath of your own.”
“You had better be smiling.” He made a parody of an angry face.
She glanced down at the carpet. No telltale footprints to give her away. She backed a step and said, “What if I’m not?”
He reached out both of his arms, encircling the place where she’d been standing. She jumped back a few more steps and teased, “I’m over here,” before scurrying a few steps away.
He didn’t chase her, but laughed and said, “My bedroom is this way.”
He took her across the expanse of the room, thirty steps to another door. But on the way, her attention found the doors to the terrace. Peeking outside, she saw the bustling marketplace spread out below. Tables and chairs sat on the terrace in groupings. She could imagine sitting in the shade of the overhanging banners and sipping ale or watered wine. Back inside, she hurried after Sir James, but he was still talking as if she stood near and heard him.
A bed dominated the next room, posts reaching almost to the ceiling and draped with thin material that formed itself into loops and curls to surround the entire mattress. He stood before a chest of drawers, pulling out clean clothing and throwing it onto a chest at the foot of his bed.
The other door opened to the hallway. Two men struggled to carry a copper tub between them. Sir James pointed to the bare floor near the chest. A stream of women entered, each carrying two buckets of hot water.
William returned with soap and a stack of cloths to use as towels. “The three seamstresses will arrive shortly, sir, as will another bed for the chart-room.
Hannah reached out and slid a drawer open. She’d seen a few drawers in her lifetime but never opened one. Inside were stockings. A whole drawer filled to overflowing with nothing but stockings. Turning to ask about them, she caught sight of William’s expression.
So did Sir James. He said, the corners of his mouth twitching in humor, “Something wrong William?”
William swallowed and shook his head, his eyes still on the self-opening drawer.
Sir James said, with a sly grin, “Would you like to see me push it back in without going near it?”
“You can do that, sir?”
Theatrically, Sir James held up his arms and wriggled his fingers as if he was a mage. Hannah slid the drawer slowly until closed, but couldn’t contain herself. She snorted once, giggled, then burst out into high-pitched laughter that Sir James joined. Finally, he said, “William, I’d like to introduce my niece, Hannah.”
William’s severely pinched face said, “It is so nice to see you. Or it would be if I could.”
That made them laugh harder. Finally, Sir James said, “A sorceress placed a spell on her. You cannot see her. We’ll get her cleaned up and then yo
u can see her. Sorry to have a little fun at your expense.”
“I’m so glad you said, little. But it explains the extra bed and seamstresses.” He went to the hallway door and slid the bar to lock it. Then he went to the room leading to the sitting room with the terrace and said, “Should I send the seamstresses in, or wait?”
“Better let her get the invisibility powder washed off her first. Close the door.”
He poured five buckets into the tub, tossed in the soap, and said, “I’ll be right outside. Will it embarrass you if the seamstresses come in after you clean up?”
“I lived in a room with seven others most of my life.”
“All girls?”
“Of course not. We were kitchen workers.”
He hesitated, “I suppose modesty is for those with money and position. Call out when you’re ready.”
She watched him leave, then stepped into the warm water. She let her feet and legs get used to it. She noticed she could see her feet again. Easing into the water, she soaped and cleaned all traces of the powder off while wishing she had more for future use. She thought of a hundred uses for it. Maybe making it should be the first spell she learned.
“Uncle James, I’m done.”
Three women entered, two old enough to have children older than Hannah, and one closer to twenty. Having been filled in by her Uncle James about her needs, they chatted and complimented her, as they measured and asked what colors she liked for her dresses.
“Blue, I like blue.”
“What color of blue, dear?” One of the older ones asked with a concerned tone. “There is an entire rainbow of blues.”
Hannah stiffened and then relaxed. There was something in the tone she didn’t like. She duplicated the pretentious sounds as well as possible. “I prefer the blue of snapdragons just before they die. Do you know that color?”
The younger girl winked at her in understanding and said, “I think I know that color. If I’m wrong, we can always make you another to the exact right color.”
